


A Counterfeit Rose

by The_Boxman



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Attempted Suicide, Battle-Royale Kinda, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Creepypasta, Demon Deals, Demon/Human Relationships, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Forced Cannibalism, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, Human/Parasite Relationships, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Multiple Dimensions, Murder, POV Multiple, Parasites, Psychological Torture, Sharing a Body, Stitching Body Parts Together, Survival Horror, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-09-27 12:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Boxman/pseuds/The_Boxman
Summary: Catherine had lost everything. Her family, her house and even her morals. She has nowhere to go. But after being saved by a mysterious man without a face, she must face her family lineage, while discovering the truth about her savior. It is up to her whether or not she’ll fall into possession, or if she’ll stay a counterfeit Rose.





	1. Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! You’re actually reading this? That’s surprising!
> 
> I’ve always been interested in the creepier aspects of the creepypasta fandom, and well, here I am. This is a very experimental piece, and I wanted to try writing something a bit different from the regular format of how Creepypasta fics are written. I wanted to make the world of CP’s more fantastical, while amplifying their creepy aspects. 
> 
> I always find the first chapter a little boring to write, so I’m not really pleased with how uneventful this first chapter may be.
> 
> But, it’ll get things moving, so it is what it is.
> 
> Please leave comments about critiques of this series (So I can fix my shitty writing 😅), and I hope you enjoy it!

The fire flickered in between her fingertips as she held the match firmly with her thumb and index finger. The heat of it nearly burned them as the flame ate away at the match, while the cold air smothered it down further. She’d been dreaming of this day for as long as she could remember, though, the snow that fell around her wasn’t exactly the best environment for setting her house on fire, but what was? All that was holding her back was the space between her dying flame and the snow that was soaked to the brim with decade old gasoline.

Catherine’s eyes focused on the bright yellow flame that was practically sitting on the tip of the nail of her thumb. The tiny sliver of warmth in the dead of winter tickled her nose. There was no going back from this. No going back from the life she was forced to live, by the monster she was forced to live under. All she was able to do, however, was wait for the flame to inch closer to her fingertips, as she peered into the slight sliver of blue that hid in the center.

She thought of the fond memories she had in her step-father’s mansion;

_ Playing piano for her mother’s birthdays...The smell of freshly brewed coffee in the mornings...Her step-father softly talking to himself in his study while he worked… _

Memories. Her memories. Memories that he had tried to make her forget. They all lived and breathed life into her home, and they would surely die with it. It was all behind her now. No turning back.

When she dropped it, the match gave a soft hiss as the snow ignited; great flames of red, yellow, and orange lighting a trail through the bitter cold to the grand estate in front of her. The conflagration roared as it barely touched the mansion, and it furiously grew into a monster. Catherine could hear the distant pops of wooden beams, and higher floors violently falling through the ceiling, with furniture crackling and hissing as the inferno consumed it all. Glass breaking. The horrible shrill of her praised piano perishing. It was all gone. Her mother always told her to keep her head held high in hard times. But her mother was dead now. Everyone was dead. Her friends, her family; even the simple maids that occasionally came by to take care of the house every Tuesday. All gone. All of them.

She wiped her eyes and brushed the bangs of her hair asides, as she turned away from the hellish inferno. She thought she could hear the angry growls of her dying memory as the mansion burned to the ground, as she turned away and faded into fields of snow away from her home, and the short sliver of road that led to a long winding road that disappeared into a nearby wood. 

Her boots sank deep in the snow, past her ankles and halfway up her calves, almost slipping inside. Her toes curled as she began to trudge through the snow. Her boots weren’t made for the winter, but it was better than trudging through the snow without them and getting frostbite on the heels of her feet, while every step felt as though she was walking on needles that sank deep into her soles. Anything was better than that. 

She came to the edge of the field, where it disappeared into a forest. Behind her, dark streaks of smoke were lifting into the air above her, all black and bruised. She sighed, hot breath into the cold air, and disappeared among the trees in the forest, leaving all she knew to burn away to ash.

—————————————————————————

Catherine pulled her shawl tighter around herself as she made her way deeper into the wooded hollow. The trees, although tightly packed together, didn’t make an effort to shield her from the frigid wind that blew right through her. The snow got harder to trek through, and she struggled to stay standing with every step she took. She grit her teeth. The cold air bit at her nose and cheeks, and her eyes could barely stay open from the stings of the cold wind. She bit her lip as she struggled to even continue.

_Fuck_, she thought to herself, _why did I decide to do all this in the middle of bloody winter! It must be at least five below!_

She spat in the snow, her lips dry and cracked, and clenched her jaw. The black woolen shawl she wrapped around herself violently thrashed behind her. It felt as though it was trying to pull her back to the pile of ash that was her home. Trying to make her feel guilty for her mistakes. Her hands trembled as she clenched and twisted her fingers to hold her shawl while it thrashed behind her. 

The trees just kept on going in front of her; endlessly continuing in every direction. She kept on walking and stumbling her way forward, not knowing where she’d end up. Her feet were numb. Her hair blew in front of her face, covering her eyes and sticking to her chapped lips. Her legs wobbled from where she stood. She couldn’t stand any longer. She fell forward.

She fell through the snow.

Through the world.

Everything was black.

—————————————————————————

Her head was spinning when she sat up. The snow had made her whole body numb, and her clothing damp. She brushed her hair to the right, and out of her face. Her cheeks were red hot, and tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. She was going to die here, wasn’t she? She sighed, and wiped her face. Her shawl was gone. It must’ve blew away. She couldn’t feel her body move. 

The world was still around her. It felt darker out, and less...alive. She looked up, and only saw black above her. The wind was dead around her.

Catherine struggled to stand on her feet. She fell down when she tried to pick herself up off the ground, using a tree for leverage. She grunted, forcing herself on her knees and slowly rising up from the crushed snow below her, and leaned on a tree. Her breath was hot, and the air made her throat hurt. Her eyes burned, and tears were flooding down her cheeks as she dragged herself through the snow. Her fingers were locked in a clenched fist, as she held herself with her arms. Her legs shook as she pressed forward, stumbling and heaving her body as she began to cry out in pain.

She screamed. She cried. She begged for help. She cursed her existence.

The silence was broken by her screaming. She stopped stumbling forward past the million trees that lie behind her, and cried out, not saying words but only pure, raw pain. She listened to the echoes of the forest, how everything was lifeless. Not a bird in the trees or sky; no animals around her; just her.

She fell to her knees, the snow enveloping her legs. She sat alone, tears flowing down her cheeks as the cold froze them in place. She could barely see anything around her; the white haze of the horizon was blocked by hundreds; thousands of trees.

One particularly tall one, seemed to have been...moving towards her.

“....H-Help…” she croaked.

The last thing she remembered was falling into the snow, while the world around her turned into the black nothingness she was well acquainted with.

—————————————————————————


	2. Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Spooky stuff happening, and we see a familiar face...
> 
> Thank you for reading this!!
> 
> Sorry these chapters are a bit short...I’m trying to get better at writing longer chapters..
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Catherine’s eyes popped open to a room with wooden beams holding up a tall ceiling above her, with a dimly lit overhead light hanging down from it. She sat up, finding herself in a small bed in the corner of the room; many colourful patterns gracing the sheets. She held her breath and looked down at her hands, and wiggled her fingers. They were no longer numb. Nothing was, actually.

The room she was in was quite warm, especially with the thick blankets that covered her body in a bed she wasn’t quite familiar with. The bed was soft, and held her weight, as she found herself not sinking in it drastically. The room she was in was quite big for even a master bedroom, yet it had hardly anything in it. The bed was in the far left corner of the room, while a small wooden chest was to the far right corner. A door was directly across the room from her, with a little black door knob. A standing mirror stood tall next to the door, slightly tilted upwards; reflecting the wooden beams that held the ceiling up. A rug sat below her bed; dazzling with sharp lines that separated several monochromatic patterns from each other; from polka-dots to strange little squiggly lines that abruptly ended when a sharp line separated its pattern to another in a small section. But other than those things, the room was empty.

Catherine pulled her legs from under the covers. Her clothing was different from when she left her mansion. Her basic black shirt was replaced with a warm black turtleneck that was a little baggy at the neck and wrist areas, like it was just slightly too big for her to wear; or the original owner had stretched it out. Her regular blue jeans were replaced with black sweatpants, with a strange emblem sewn into it that resembled an ‘O’ with and ‘X’ through it. Her boots were nowhere to be seen inside the room.

_Where is this_, she thought, while wiggling her toes in the softness in the rug, _who does this shirt belong to?_

The creaking of floorboards had emitted from outside her door, soft at first, but it grew louder.

Catherine immediately tucked her legs back under the blankets of the bed, and pulled them above her head as she heard the doorknob to her room turn softly, and slowly. The door creaked open for just a moment. Catherine only heard the sounds of gentle clicking of shoes come towards her bed, along with the squeaking of the floorboards complimenting it. Soft breathing of someone seemed to almost echo across the room. It seemed raspy, uneven breaths; like someone who had just finished running a marathon. The floorboards creaked again. She heard a soft ‘thump’ at the end of her bed. She held her breath. She felt them sit on the end of the bed, and the scribbles of hasty writing on a piece of paper. Not a second later, and the person stood up, and sauntered over to the door; their heels clicking along with the floorboards’ squeaks as the door was shut. Harder than when it was first opened.

—————————————————————————

She breathed a sigh of relief, and uncovered herself to the empty room. The end of the bed had nothing on it. She uncovered herself, and crawled to the edge and looked on the floor, where her black shawl layed; it smelled fresh, and was folded nicely. Her boots rested next to her shawl, and smelled of olive oil with a nice shine that complimented the dim lighting of the room. She grabbed them, and pulled them on while double lacing each boot. She grabbed her shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sighed, and stood up.

The floors creaked softly, and she began to make her way towards the door. As she placed her hand upon the doorknob, she noticed the tilted mirror, and took her hand off the knob, adjusting it to reflect herself. Her face was slightly flush, with it being noticeable from her sickly pale skin; almost grey. She licked her thumb and straightened out her bangs, which covered her right eye; it was useless to her anyways, she couldn’t see out of it. She smoothed the back of her black hair, which just about touched her shoulders. She took time to notice the bags under her left eye. Dark grey, that contrasted with her bright green eyes. After all, they were her mother’s. She licked her lips, which were a pale blackish tint; possibly due to the lack of sun exposure, and would only darken the more she was outside.

“I’m still human, right mother?”

The breath from her whisper fogged the glass for a moment. She sighed, and took the doorknob, and turned it slowly. It gave out a slow, painful squeaking noise; like a fork slowly scraping down a chalkboard. When she opened it, she was met with a long, dark hallway. Poorly lit, as of course it was. She took a deep breath, and began to walk into the darkness of an unknown house.

—————————————————————————

There were a multitude of doors at each side of her, most of which, were knobless, and appeared to be sealed shut to the wall. She tried not to take note of the many carvings and indents that were etched into the doors. Things like pictures, or words; symbols of the same ‘O’ with an ‘X’ that was stitched on her sweatpants. Names were also etched into the doors; what seemed like hundreds of names stacked on top of each other, making it barely legible. Every door was like this. Hastily carved in, and unable to be opened. Catherine’s breath grew more rapid, as she quickened her pace down the hall, while the doors whizzed past her. She felt as though she was sprinting through the endless corridor. Doors…….Doors…...Doors…Doors. There were only doors surrounding her. The walls were suffocating, closing in with doors growing larger around her in the dark. The hallway seemed to close in on her, thinning out to barely let her run through it.

The dark consumed her. The only light she saw in the hall, was a faint ray that glimmered at the end of what seemed to be an endless trek. Catherine huffed, as she darted towards it, feeling relief in the dim light at the end of the corridor. She huffed, resting against the wall for only a moment, before peering down at the large room she’d stumbled into.

A golden dim of light glittered through an extravagant chandelier that hung from a tall ceiling hidden in a deep darkness. It lit up a large entranceway, with a wide staircase in front of her leading to the corridor she was in, and a significantly shorter one across from the endless one she had barely escaped. The floors were pearly white, with a tint of grey that layered the stone. It seemed to make up the whole entranceway, including the stairs, but failed to age up the flooring of the corridors, which were wooden instead. Catherine carefully walked her way down the staircase; her boots softly clicking against the stone surface. There were two rooms to the sides of her. The one to the left of her was a room with a visible fireplace that was surrounded by a large couch and a glass table.

_Probably a living area_, she remarked to herself, as she tightened her shawl around herself.

The right room was dark, and led to another smaller hallway, that turned right at the end of it. She could make out a long black carpet, but nothing else in the room before it led to the short hall. She dismissed them, and headed to the front door, which was made of opaque glass that was shaded a dusty grey colour. It was a tall, thin door, that was almost touching the darkness where the ceiling was; It might’ve been as tall of the ceiling, but it blended in with the black void above. Catherine searched for a way to open it, but there was no way to remotely pull it open, not even a frame to pull against. It began to seem more like a painting than an actual door, and she sighed, and put her hand on it. She pressed against it, putting the weight of her body against the door and pushed. Didn’t budge.

She pressed her back against it to try and level herself against the door. Didn’t Budge even slightly.

She grunted, gritting her teeth as she pushed against the door, which made no effort to move.

“Fucking move!” She growled, while positioning herself to push it forward with her hands. “I’ve had...a bloody fucking rough day….and I command you to fucking open!”

Absolutely nothing.

She groaned, and slid down the door and sat on the floor against it, with her back against the wall and her knees against her chest. Her face felt hot, and she traced her fingers in her hair, pulling at it in frustration. She sighed.

_This is it. I’m stuck in limbo. I must’ve died in the cold and I’m in hell. Another fucking big house._

She wiped her face and buried her head in her arms; curled in a ball against the door. She clenched her eyes shut, focusing on her breathing. Her breath was hot, and rigid. She held it for a moment, and relaxed her body, breathing it all out slowly and supporting herself with one hand as she wiped her face with the other. She pushed herself back up on her feet, and traced her fingers along the glass of the door; smooth swirls of her fingers along its greyness.

Soft sounds of heels clicking echoed throughout the entranceway, and turned Catherine’s attention towards the right room with the black rug. A figure stood there.

“So you’re awake. Wonderful, The boss will be overjoyed.”

The figure was thin, wearing a worn yellow jacket and a white mask with a feminine-faced mask. His voice was a soft tone, gentle; timid, almost. The heels on his shoes clacked against the floor as he slowly walked towards her, in a stiff manner. He stepped in front of her, and held his hands behind his back.

“You must be wondering where you are. Please, come with me. The boss will explain everything you need to know.”

Catherine stared at him, stepping away with a distraught look on her face.

“Why should I follow you? I don’t even know where I am! I don’t even know who you are!”

The man stood there silent, standing up straight while holding his hands in place, this time in front of him. She could see him clench his hands tighter together.

“My name is Masky, and all your questions will be answered if you please follow me.”

There was more of an aggressiveness to his tone, but less hostile and more...frightened. Catherine took a short breath, and sighed, relaxing herself.

“If it’ll get me out of this place ...Fine, I’ll follow you, but if this is a trick-“

“It won’t be. My boss is very fair. He’ll explain everything to you, now please follow me.”

Catherine grit her teeth. This man was impatiently persistent, and unsettling, to boot. She pulled her shawl even tighter around her, clenching her fingers in its fabric. The man slightly nodded and turned around swiftly on his heels and began to walk towards the right corridor room. Behind him, Catherine noticed the small outline of purple on his nape, dark with a faded green complimenting it. The more she looked past his shaggy brown hair and the collar of his jacket, the more she noticed the purple marks on his neck. They were long, skinny streaks of dark and pale purple, with some mixing into a brownish green colour. There were multiple of them. She could see five of them in total.

—————————————————————————

Catherine followed the man, who walked similar to a soldier; stiff in his movements, but very focused in them. He swerved right at the end of the hall, and stopped in his tracks, met by another door. It was tall, like the ones the entranceway, but not nearly as tall as that. It was simply, a brown wooden door. It towered over her though, but seemed more like an actual door than a painting on a wall.

He pushed the door open and stood outside it, standing stiffly in place like he was guarding it. Catherine scoffed under her breath and walked into the room. The door slowly shut itself behind her.

The room was somewhat of a library, with yet again, a tall ceiling that seemed too disappear into a dark void above; taunting her with the impossible height of bookshelves that eventually disappeared into the ceiling’s void. They riddled the room, hundreds of books scattered in endless shelves. In the middle of the room was another figure, sitting with his legs crossed in an armchair with faded flowers on it. He was sharply dressed in a black suit, with the only spark of colour being a crimson tie. Catherine gripped her shawl and backed up against the door, reaching for the knob.

“So you’re awake, Good. I had feared you were dead,” he addressed to her, with a deep, scratchy voice. He articulated his words with a slight hint of a German accent, seemed to have a lingering growl after he spoke. “I saw you, in the woods. You were struggling to walk through, and you eventually collapsed in the snow. I then brought you here, my home. I take it you found your way around quite well?”

Catherine’s breath was the only remote noise that echoed across the room. Her quick huffs drafted to her cheeks, which made them hot and flushed. Her fingers tore through her shawl as she dug into it, and stared at the figure; the man.

The man without a face.

He cleared his throat, “I...er...see you are quite distraught. Won’t you take a seat?”

He stood up and gestured towards his armchair, his fingers thin and sickly pale. She never took her eyes of him, and slowly crept towards the chair with her arms tucked into her shawl. She sat down slowly. He towered over her, and spun the chair around to face another chair.

The room though, shifted around her. The walls began to peel back into a black room, with the bookshelves fusing into the walls and fading to black. Her chair began to chip away; the felt of the patterned chair began to eat away at itself, revealing an entirely different chair, black and wooden, with leather padding beginning to wrap around itself under Catherine. The man walked in front of her, and sat down at the perfect moment when another leather chair formed from under him. He crossed his legs, and a fireplace erupted to the right of Catherine, with a calm red flame slithering up from the wood. To her left, was the previous entranceway, with the pearly white floors and the painting door, that seemed more door-like from an angle. She was in the living area.

“Now then,” he cleared his throat, “Who are you?”

————————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what Slender will ask her... better wait for the next chapter!
> 
> If you guys have any questions, feel free to comment and ask me anything!


	3. Home Alone

Catherine’s hands tightened in her lap. The faceless man sat across from her with his legs crossed casually; his hands were interlocked on his knee. The chair he sat in was too short for him, but held his thin figure almost perfectly. She saw his fingers slid together flawlessly as well. Quite possibly everything had been perfect about him. 

“You’ve yet to answer me properly, miss,” he reminded her, while making no effort to move at all. He was like a walking, talking doll.

Catherine sat there, staring at him for only a moment, before clearing her throat.

“My name is Catherine, sir.”

The man shifted in the chair, crossing his legs again in the opposite direction. The fire next to him gave out a loud ‘ **POP** ’, and the wood fell apart into smaller pieces. 

_ The logs were fresh when we sat down,  _ she thought to herself, as she glanced to the fireplace to the right of her.

“I see,” The man started, briefly straightening his tie before resting his hands on his knee, “so Catherine is your name? How lovely.”

“It is sir. It is ...er, quite a lovely name? I still like it, and it’s mine..” Catherine’s hands fidgeted in her lap as she tried to not keep eye contact with him, but looking up just enough to seem like she was.

“Well, continuing on introductions, my name is Der Großmann; The Slenderman. Pardon my dialect, but many know me by that name.”

Catherine gripped at her clothing, and festered a smile, trying to appear friendly.

“That’s … a lovely name! It fits rather well since you’re-“

She stopped herself for a moment, and looked directly at him.

He shifted forward, uncrossing his legs and placing his elbows on his knees; his hands interlocked and holding his chin, like he was...observing her.

“I’m listening,” his voice was soft and deep, almost as if he were addressing a child.

Catherine backed into her chair, trying to seem comfortable.

“Uh ..well, um...you’re quite ...thin.” Her voice quivered slightly while beginning to slowly look down at her hands, while gripping them together. The room to her, started to feel smaller and more compacted together. 

Slender cleared his throat and stood from the chair, straightening his tie once more; he then adjusted the sleeves on his suit, and where the cufflinks were, and held his hand out to her.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Catherine. I hope you and I can be well acquainted with each other.”

Catherine stared at his hand for a moment. His fingers became more grotesquely slim, almost like the legs of a spider. They were a pale gradient of white and grey, with his fingertips being a faded grey colour that slowly cleaned to a pale white. She held her breath, and slowly let her own hand rise to the Pale Man’s palm, and took it. His fingers wrapped around her hand, enveloping all of it in his firm grasp. 

They shook hands, firmly and slowly, with Catherine staring into the blank-faced individual that towered above her. His grip on her hand tightened, causing her to wince slightly from the sharp pain of her hand beginning to be crushed in his palm. 

“U-Um Sir? You’re hurting me … if you just let go of me, I’ll be fine.”

She tried to pull away from him, but he gripped her hand harder, making her grit her teeth in pain. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand and tried to pull his hand off of hers; his fingers beginning to intertwine up her wrist, like his fingers was slowly enveloping her. She growled and began to try and pry his hand off her, grunting and trying to pull away from him. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” She screamed at him, thrashing her other arm against his wrist, while her heels scraped against the floor as she pushed away from him.

He slowly brought his other hand over to her wrist, and pulled her towards him. He grasped her other wrist and didn’t dislodge from his location as she thrashed at him. Catherine screeched at him to let her go. She grit her teeth and wailed as her attempts at pulling away from him were futile. His grip tightened on her wrists, causing her to cry out and grit her teeth. Her face was hot with rage. 

Two more hands grabbed her biceps, while her wrists were still being crushed by … also his hands. Catherine stared up at the faceless man, as arms and hands sprouted from the blackness of his hide. More of his sickly, grotesque fingers grasped her arms, and held her still. She leered above at him, her eyes locked on the dark sockets that held no eyes; a face with no mouth, ears, nose or even hair. Everything was blank. He slowly used the hands holding her wrists to push her sleeves up her arms. His grip loosened on her arms, as he held her wrists, and turned her wrists over to show her veins. Her veins, however, were not visible. 

Two tiny vertical slits were prominent on both wrists; one for each wrist. Catherine held her breath and looked at The Slenderman. He stared back at her with a dark gaze that shouldn’t have been there. She felt like she was going to cry. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she turned her head away from him and flexed her wrists. The slits opened, and tiny, rugged teeth sprung out, with a thin tongue; it flicked from side to side, before hiding back in the tiny slits. They were tiny mouths on her wrists.

Slender chuckled for only a moment, and grasped her wrists harder, forcing the little tongues out of the wrist-mouths.

“How long were you planning on hiding that you were a demon, Miss Catherine?”

—————————————————————————

_ The dense cold shrouded around my face and fingertips. The perch I was standing on was surprisingly stable. Probably due to it being frozen to the tree it was mounted on. The darkness of the sky complimented the pure white of the snow, however, the blackness oozing out of the cracks of the earth would eventually melt and taint the snow black. It was surprising how the world wanted to kill us, yet didn’t make a fast enough effort to do so.  _

_ We called this place the ‘Darkrealms’ _

_ This place was practically running with demons and monsters of all shapes and sizes. Nothing was ever safe; once you’re in, you’re in for good. I’ve tried for too many years to escape outta this hell hole, but I always come at the short end of the stick, and I wind back up in this mess. Absolutely nothing here is pure or unclean.  _

_ I sigh, and set my pair of binoculars down next to me on my perch.  _

** _Find anything?_ **

_ “Not really,” I yawn, “there’s fresh tracks along The Big Man’s shack, but nothing noticeable.” _

** _Are we still gonna be safe?_ **

_ “Definitely. It’s surprising how he hasn’t been tracking us whatsoever for seven years. I doubt he’d start now.” _

** _What about Tim?_ **

_ I bite my lip. Tim was still stuck in that shithole, and has been far longer than I’d been in the picture, and treated far worse than I was. _

_ “Tim is … well,” I started. I didn’t really know how to describe him. He was once just some guy who got caught in the wrong situation and the wrong time. But that could be used to explain everyone stuck here. _

_ “Tim is a kissass. He knows how to play his cards right. I doubt he’d be killed anytime soon.” _

_ I bit my tongue. I didn’t know if that was really true or not. I never wanted to find out. I tugged my collar in place, shielding my jawline from the cold, and picked up my binoculars. Everyday I’d come and scout the area for anything and everything. Beings have a tendency to wander everywhere instead of bunker down in a house or something. It was common to see creatures wander for a few minutes, and fall down dead seconds later. Some could be regular people, just starved and frail; but others could be malformations of what they once were. Creatures that sprouted multiple arms that cannot function on their body; Eyes scattered on their body, red from the lack of eyelids; becoming demonic and animalistic to the point where you couldn’t even remember if you ever were human or whatever you were before you were stuck here. _

_ That’s all of our fates here. To eventually die or become monsters. Not a very pretty outcome. Some are lucky enough not to be affected by the poison of The Darkrealms as others are. Some can still be human, but they have to depend on the substance here that lingers everywhere; the water, the air, the plants and even the malformed animals that occasionally wandered here. _

** _Aren’t you forgetting something else?_ **

_ I groan. There was something I was forgetting. I unzip my jacket about halfway and look down my shirt. A puff of hot air blows in my face, as my collarbone slides open and reveals large, jagged and yellowed teeth. This was Backmouth; my parasite. _

** _And your best fucking friend. So ungrateful of you to not even acknowledge that._ **

_ I groan and zip my jacket back up. He was apart of me, and could hear what I was thinking, along with what he was thinking. He could speak and eat, like a regular mouth. I’ve always had him since I was little. _

_ I sling my binoculars over my shoulder, and grab my back that was leaning against the trunk of the tree; I sling it over my shoulders as well, and kneel over the edge of the platform, carefully hanging off of the edge as I drop to another branch below. And another. And another. And another. _

_ I land in a cold puddle of what used to be snow, now all soggy and black. The dense forest around me turns into an endless wasteland of snow, fog, and trees. I reach for my bag over my shoulders and dig around in it, eventually pulling out a feathered mask with tinted lens sewn into it; my design, of course. I slip it on, and wander into the blackness of the impending night. _

_ ————————————————————————— _

_ The door to my cabin creaks open, but for a short period of time before I slammed it shut; shoving a small rug in the cracks of the frame at the floor. I was surprised my home was decently warm without a fire.  _

_ I kick off my boots and unzip my jacket, throwing it aside on a small armchair in the middle of the room. It was a quaint little cabin I’d made, having only four rooms in it, and an underground icebox that was outside. The main living room greeted my presence, as it was thankfully still untouched. There was a small rug that complimented the middle of the room, with a small wooden table sitting on top of it, and an armchair to the right of it. In front of it was a poorly crafted couch, with a ton of blankets and pillows on it to make it even remotely comfortable. Behind the table was a small fireplace and a matchbox standing next to it. Perfect for one person. _

_ I walked over to the fireplace and picked up the matchbox, and used small, firestarters I made to resurrect a fire in the hearth. I groaned as I threw myself on my couch, still feeling pain on my sides from bruises that I’d gotten from falling down my perch, and getting into fights with certain … people. _

** _You mean that weird smile guy?_ **

_ “Yes Backmouth. The really weird smile guy who needs to take a fucking shower.” _

_ Backmouth spat open his mouth below my shirt and filled the house with his rugged laughter; cackling loudly while sticking out his tongue and wiggling it around. I sigh and carefully slip off m shirt. Backmouth opened his mouth and absolutely hollered in laughter, practically shaking the entire house with him.  _

** _“That was SUPER funny S,” _ ** _ He cackled, still chuckling to himself. _

** _“If only I could top those jokes of yours, I’d be joking about way more stuff than eating children.”_ **

_ “You don’t eat children BM.” _

** _“I can and I will.”_ **

_ I groan and shift myself upside down on the couch, and slowly slide down until I fall to the ground. Everyday was like this; boring, survivalistic, and bland. Everyday I sat around and waited to either die on my own, or for someone to kill me. I layed on the floor to my cabin on my back; holding my hands on my chest and feeling my own heartbeat along with Backmouth’s irregular breaths. The warmth of the fire and the quiet atmosphere is peaceful. I can almost forget everything that happened in the past seven years. _

_ A knock on my door interrupts the silence. _

_ The knocks were soft and short. I sat up and stared at my door, slowly standing up and reaching for my coat that held a 9mm revolver in its inside pocket. A small letter slipped through the bottom of the door, pushing the rug under the door away from it. I stopped, and listened to footsteps hastily running off my porch. I set down my revolver on the chair that my coat was sprawled over, and kneeled on the floor; I blinked from the cold wind under the door blowing into my eye, not noticing anyone nearby. I push the rug to cover the crack under the door, and took the letter.  _

_ I noticed the rushed penmanship of the letter, it having a horribly scribbled ‘S’ on the front of it. I opened it. _

_ It read “ _ ** _New Arrival_ ** _ ” in hastily scribbled ink. _

_ ————————————————————————— _


	4. I’m Fine; I’ll Dine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I made this chapter longer than the others ones and I hope its better written then the other chapters :P
> 
> Do expect some soft gore in this chapter!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who ends up finding and reading this!

Catherine sat down in the same chair again, rubbing her wrists as the faceless figure towered above her. The fire to the right of her had burned out, leaving the room around them dark; and smelling remotely of smoke and ash. She peered down at her wrists, the slits lying dormant. She balled her hands into a fist and shot a glance up at The Slenderman.

“I wasn’t hiding anything,” she assured, beginning to stand upright in her seat as her voice began to grow louder.

Slender only stood there, tapping his foot quickly on the floor, with his original two arms crossed. He seemed to almost blend into the darkness.

“I’d assumed you were simply lost, Miss Catherine, but now I’m not quite convinced in the slightest. Tell me, to what extent were you going to mention of your heritage? Now? Never? Did you think I’d never find out?”

He cleared his throat, and leaned in front of Catherine, grabbing the arms of the chair, and looking her straight in her eyes.

“I know everything that goes on inside this house. Inside and out. You cannot ** _fathom_ ** how _ difficult _ it will be to hide anything from me.”

Catherine held her breath.

The painting door in the entryway suddenly slammed open; a loud **‘Crack’** emitted from it as it slammed against the wall. Catherine jumped in her seat and whipped her head in its direction. Slender sunk back upwards from Catherine, and straightened his tie. A group of figures stumbled into the house, groaning and arguing with one another; their voices echoing across the home. Catherine eyed them all, scanning all three of them. One of the figures cocked his head back, glaring at him as he walked forward ...or was it a she? Catherine couldn't tell at first due to the figure’s long, matted black hair that seemed like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in years; it was left all askew in their eyes and mouth. All Catherine could sport from their face was a distorted mask that covered their mouth and eyes in black. Another figure had blood streaks faded down the side of their arm of an obviously dirty yellow sweatshirt; their arm was wrapped with bandages that could be assumed to previously white, before being dyed a sickly brownish-red colour that continued down their sleeve. On the face of the hoodie a veil-like black cloth, with a red frowny face stitched into it. The third figure was similar to the black-haired figure, whom had more of a masculine build. This figure had a bloodstained white jacket, that reeked of filth and sin. Catherine covered her mouth as they walked by.

Slender cleared his throat. “You’re late.”

The masculine figure stopped walking, and swerved their heels towards Slender and Catherine, who dipped down more in her seat as they began to walk towards them, leaving the other two to vanish into the darkness of the house. It was a man, long black hair draining his sides as he licked his lips for a moment. Slits similar to her wrists were prominent at the sides of his cheeks, but unlike hers, oozed with dried blood and old pus, and crusted streaks down to his chin.

Catherine clenched her hand over her nose. _ Disgusting. _

Slender stepped in front of her, and cleared his throat.

“Anything to report?”

“**Nothin’ really. Hood got attacked by Sam, Kate chased em’, lost em’ and we ran into some monsters. Same old, same old Slendy.”**

The man’s voice was hoarse at first, like he was once a chronic smoker, but as he spoke, his voice softened a bit. Catherine slowly leaned over her chair and peered over at him, still covering her nose from the smell.

“That still doesn’t excuse your sloppiness, Jeffery.”

The man shrugged, and sifted through the pockets of his jacket, and pulled out a small bottle. It was a tiny bottle in the shape of a glass rose, with a small nozzle at the top and a chain wrapped around the stem of it.

**“Found dis’ in the outskirts. Did somethin’ wander in?”**

Catherine’s chair tipped over towards them, and knocked Slender forward while she fell to the floor and clenched her head.

**“Oh shit! New blood? I thought you gave a hard NO on new members on what happened last-“**

Before he could finish, Slender snatched the small rose from him, towering over him as he clenched his sickly fingers into a fist.

“I did say that. Now leave me and her, you still need to make up for being late from returning from your mission. Go find Tim and wait for further instructions.”

Catherine looked up at the man, who scoffed under his breath and swerved his heels around and walked away, almost sliding across the entranceway on them. Catherine picked herself up and stared up at Slender, as he lurched forward with his arm and picked up the leather chair she was sitting in only moments ago. She sunk back into it, and crossed her arms as he sat across her once more, crossing his legs and holding the small rose bottle in front of him by the short chain that hung between his fingers. Catherine took a sharp breath in.

“More people live here?” She spoke.

Slender cleared his throat. “They work for me. They do the tasks that I have no time in my days to complete. In return for their work, I provide housing for them. Those were some of my workers, and the same with the masked man whom introduced you to me.”

Catherine nodded, while eyeing the bottle. It was hers, given to her by her late mother. It glistened in the dim light of the fire that barely flickered back to life in the hearth, with small increments of perfumed liquid that sloshed around as Slender twirled the chain briefly. She gripped the arms of her chair. Slender stood, pocketing it, and straightened his tie once more.

“No reason to continue this dull conversation; come, you must be starving. I’ll have one of my “Workers” fix up something for you.”

Catherine stood, and Slender beckoned her to follow.

———————————————————

Catherine slowly followed Slender throughout his maze of the house, turning corners left and right down longer and darker corridors that seemed endless like before. Some had doors, with similar inscriptions as the ones from her first trek down the similarly endless hallway from before. She could barely spot Slender in front of her; he blended in the bleakness in front of her. Faded green spots swirled in her eyes from staring in the piercing abyss in front of her. Then he stopped.

Slender stood in front of a dark opening; devoid of a door but still held a frame that led into more of the abyssal darkness that welcomed Catherine; and the frame seemed to brighten into a vivid white that slowly began emanating light, and began to expand into a wider opening, illuminating the hall behind her. The hallway shrank back into the in the entryway of the manor, where the painting-like door was once was. Catherine blinked. The opening in front of Slender had expanded into a kitchen, with sweet aromas of food wafting towards Catherine’s nose.

“Pardon my residence, It can be quite strenuous to navigate its many phantasmagoric halls; It never is what it seems.” His voice was soft, almost whispering again as he cocked his head behind his shoulder to look at her. 

As he turned, a large shriek filled the silence around him.

“HOLY SHIT S-SLENDY LOOK O-OUT-“

Slender quickly ducked under a flying teacup made of porcelain, that shattered above his head as it crashed into the frame of the opening. The shards of the glass fell to the floor at both Slender and Catherine’s feet, which she picked up. It was smooth, as porcelain should be, with tiny blue inscriptions of trees lining the sides of it, up to the handle, which was cracked in half. Catherine peered up at Slender, who held some shards in his hand, and tossed them aside as he entered the kitchen.

The kitchen had a very modern build, having pale cream-coloured countertops and an island in the middle that was smeared with black.. dirt? Soot? Unexplainable substances? Catherine shook her head as she followed Slender inside. The black-haired man sat on a trashcan leaning against the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, digging a knife in the heel of his shoe; a bright red wheel sitting in a slot on his heel, as he dug into the crevices of it. He seemed to try really hard to not look at Slender or her. Catherine covered her nose as she walked by; the aroma of his infected mouth slits was more like a pungent smell that made her head pound in pain. But that was for only a moment.

Catherine had noticed another person in the room besides him, who was cowering on the floor, hunched up against a lower cabinet door. He had shaggy, light brown hair that was similar to that Masky figure she’d met a while ago, but his face wasn’t completely covered by a mask. He was wearing a black mouth mask with noticeable faded brown splotches that seemed to seep out from the outside, and a white tank top with a brownish black jacket tied to his waist. But all Catherine could focus on was his eyes. Dark bags complimented faded brown of hid iris, which started up in horror as Slender, who grasped the “U-neck” of his tank and hoisted him up to his level.

Catherine held her breath as she grasped the shattered cup. Slender threw the man against the wall of the kitchen, seemingly hissing a foul noise while doing so. He left a small crack in the wall and fell to the floor, wheezing through his mask.

“What did I tell you about handling the porcelain teacups,” he growled, as he crept slowly towards him, towering above him.

“Don’t.” He pointed at the face of the individual with one of his slim fingers.

Catherine tugged on Slender’s suit, forcing his attention on her rather than the man laying on the floor, coughing and twitching. Slender Sighed, and fixed his tie once again. 

“Ahem, well...yes. Jeffery, fix something up for Catherine. She’ll be staying the night before I figure what to do with her. Tobias, clean up your mess; there’s glass everywhere.”

He then turned and left the kitchen through a tall door that Catherine wasn’t sure was always there. For the few seconds she spotted it, it seemed again, like a painting. 

Catherine set the broken piece of the teacup on the island, and held her hand out to the man on the floor, who grasped his chest as he wheezed. He took her hand and coughed for a moment.

**“Great job Tob. You broke the pale asshole’s favorite teaset or whatever, an’ now he’s gonna piss on all of us.”**

The black haired man stood up, sliding on his heels for a second, and walked over Catherine. She winced at the stench of his wounds.

**“An’ you. He’s got some interest in you, which is weird. He’s only into recruiting monsters and fucked up people. But hey, I’m not picky, long as you don’t fuck with my shit. Name’s Jeff. That twitchy dude in fron’ of you is Toby.”**

Catherine looked at Toby, who had a thumbs-up on his hand while his continued to wheeze less, but still violently.

“Nice to meet you both..My name’s Catherine.” She whispered. She kept her voice low under the aggressiveness of Jeff’s. 

**“Catherine? Real prissy name, but whatever. Keep light on your toes here. Some dudes who stay here are really fucked up, like ** ** _really_ ** ** fucked up. Turned into monsters by the Darkrealms.” **He sat back down on the trashcan and took off his other shoe, jabbing a large kitchen knife in the heel again, and removed the wheel, cleaning out black dirt which he poured on the island that was already covered in it.

“The Darkrealms? Is that where this is?”

**“Yeeeup. Real shit show ain’t it? Nothing but black gross blobs of slime and no sunshine. Always dark here, that's why it’s called, k’now, ** ** _“The Darkrealms”_ ** **. I take it you’re new here.”**

Catherine nodded, and leaned against the island. She had no idea what he was talking about. The _ Darkrealms _?

“Ha! L-Lucky, you sure that y-you’re not infect-t-ted?”

Toby’s voice was higher pitched than Jeff’s, but he stuttered frequently, and his fingers seemed to twitch with every stutter.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. “Infected? What do you mean ‘infected’?”

Jeff popped the tiny wheel back in the heel of his shoe, and rested his hands on his knees.

**“This place ain’t like our world. This place does somethin’ to people like-“**

Jeff turned his head, and clicked his tongue.

** _“Tsk.”_ **

Masky was standing in the doorway, his arms at his side and standing still and perfectly straight. He took long steps when he did begin to move; long and slow. 

“The boss told me to prepare something for you.” Masky stated, his voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever. 

He walked past Jeff and Toby, and took Catherine’s arm, leading her to a tall fridge, and opened it. Catherine’s eyes watered as the stench of rotten food, human body parts and other unnamed substances filled the room. She clenched her hand over her mouth and nose and turned away.

_ UGH! _

Masky began taking out containers, placing them one by one, more of the distasteful stench filling the room, causing Toby to gag. Mold, maggots, and black ooze filled all of the contents of each container. Catherine’s eyes watered; she backed away quickly until her back was flat against the wall. She heard Masky sigh, and slid all of the containers towards Jeff, who dumped it all in the trashcan he was previously sitting on. 

“I believe some _ other _ preparations should be in order.” Masky sighed, pushing his mask up as one would push their glasses up, and quickly darted out of the room. Catherine flinched as she’d never seen him walk any faster than a meander. Jeff clicked his tongue once more.

**“Don’t trust Masky. He’s the pale asshole’s favorite.”**

He stood up, stretching his arms upwards, and pocketed his hands in his jacket, and slid in his heels towards Catherine, leaning against the wall with her. 

**“Where’d he pick you up at? Kill your family? Stranded you somewhere?”**

Catherine sighed. “He said he ‘found me’ collapsed in the forest in the snow. I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth…” She fidgeted in place, twiddling her thumbs.

“H-He brought you here t-too? W-Wow! We’re pra-a-actictally twins!” Toby chuckled to himself before his head violently collided with his shoulder suddenly, and then went back to normal.

“Right… Um, how many people live here?”

**“Les’ see… Me, that guy, Mask-face, Brian, Kate, Jack, and… uh… well I think that’s everyone. People tend to come and go pretty frequently.”**

Catherine grasped her shawl. All the names on the doors down the endless hallways… all the scratches and indents etched into the wood...

“Oh! You mean l-like S-S?” 

Jeff turned to Toby and put a finger over his lips; smudging the crusted blood on his lips and shushing him. Toby glared at him, and cupped his hand around Catherine’s ear; his hot breath tickling it as he gasped his words from his mask.

“You see, a l-long time ago there w-w-was this dude w-who was Slender’s origin-n-nal favorite. He apparently had t-taken him from somewhe-ere and brought him here-e. He was t-trained here and fit t-to be a proxy, like what we are. W-We do all the w-work for Slendy, and he keep-ps us safe. B-But you see, one day, S-S was able t-to-“

Toby was grabbed by his neck and slammed against the wall next to Catherine, who recoiled from the strife that was occuring before her. Masky held Toby to the wall by the collar of his shirt; his hands seemed to strain themselves seizing Toby, who was growling in pain and digging his fingernails in Masky’s wrists. Masky’s were covered in bandages and bruises, as well as his hands, and even more so his arms that were pushed forward out from his sleeves. Catherine eyed them, letting the encounter play on while backing away into Jeff, who grasped his kitchen knife in his right hand.

Masky gasped, his voice quivering under his mask while his arms began to shake from the mass strain they were in.

“Don’t you EVER mention his name here AGAIN!”

Jeff pushed Catherine aside, stabbing his knife into Masky’s right hand, which was still grasping Toby’s shirt. He slammed himself into Masky, who stumbled backwards with his hand oozing blood; droplets of it left crimson stains on the blank floor. He huffed, holding his wound behind him and fingering through his hair. A container of fresh vegetables laid sprawled across the opening of the kitchen; Tomatoes, lettuce and even potatoes all danced across the blank canvas of the floor, staining it with fresh splotches of black dirt. 

Jeff clicked his tongue and hoisted Toby back onto his feet as he began wheezing and gasping all over again. But Catherine wasn’t focused on any of that. She stared into the hypnotic attraction of the red that flowed between the white floor and the air above it; she traced the pathways in which the blood flowed down Masky’s fingertips, and into the small crevices of his nail, then falling off the skinny fingertips he had. It seemed like the world was spinning in front of her. So many things occurring so fast, and so much at once. It all made her head spin.

The sights, the smells, the feelings she had. She felt them scream inside her mind as she gripped her head. Her ears rang; the smell of the freshly cut blood danced around her head. She crouched to the ground and screamed, grasping her head. 

It echoed throughout the halls of the mansion. Jeff turned to her, and quickly glared at Masky before crouching down to her level. 

**“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong with you? If it's the blood, don’ worry. It’s just a little bit of it. We get in a ton of fights here all the time!”**

“IT’S NONE OF THAT!” She screamed, clenching her hands to her ears while staring down at the opaque floor; a small pool of blood flowing down at her feet, which originated from the blade of Jeff’s knife, which he grasped in his right hand still.

He remained silent.

“Everything is spinning… everything is too much… what the fuck am I doing here?! Why are you people here?! Why am I here?!” 

She gasped, her breathing sharper and more erratic and she removed her hands from her ears and clenched her mouth, while continuously staring at the puddle of blood that trickled more and more into a bigger mass of liquid. She slowly raised one of her fingers and submerged it in the blood, collecting some of it on her finger and bringing it close to her face.

“... and why do you tempt me with food like this..?” 

She popped her finger in her mouth, and licked her lips. Nobody made a sound. They only watched her smear her fingers in the puddle and lick them clean off the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Side Note:  
Yes, I did end up giving Jeff those old Heelys (shoes with wheels in the heels), and he wears Heelys to hide his feelies.


	5. Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter! Happy Spooky wonky month my dudes. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading!

_ I don’t know how long I held that simple note in my palms. The hastily scribbled words seemed to dig themselves into my mind, over and over again; each and every time I read and reread it.  _ ** _‘New Arrival’ ‘New Arrival’ ‘New Arrival’. _ ** _ What did it mean? _

_ The once roaring fire that dwelled in my fireplace sank down to only small cinders covered in white ash. My cabin would grow cold again in an hour, probably. I began folding the note in half; then half again, and again and again, until it was a small paper square that was too small for my fingers to fold. I know who sent this note, but it boggles me how they were able to do it unnoticed. They stopped coming to see me after the Big Man found out. Jackass. He wanted me dead, along with everyone I affiliate myself with. Maybe he would use this ‘New Arrival’? The Big Man was full of surprises; the most stressful aspect about him. _

_ Backmouth clicked his tongue before speaking,  _ ** _“What are we gonna do?”_ **

_ “I dunno BM, if this letter is implying the there’s a new chess piece on the checkerboard, then I’ll need verification on what it is.” _

_ I sat up, quickly slipping my shirt back on, pocketing the note and grabbed my jacket, throwing it on just like before. How long had I been staring at that stupid note? _

** _For over an hour. We kinda took a well earned nap on your shitty couch._ **

_ I groan. He always insulted my possessions.  _

_ I grabbed my gun from the chair which my jacket was sprawled across a few moments ago, and slotted it inside the holster that dwelled in my jacket. Always keep a weapon on you. First rule of The Darkrealms. There were so many things to keep in mind here; so many rules to follow and continue to make with every day that passes by. It’s not that exhausting as it sounds, but it’s horribly annoying.  _

_ A loud  _ ** _‘Crash’ _ ** _ echoed throughout my house, rattling the walls and the doorknob on my front door. The shutters on my boarded up windows rattled, as well, under the wooden boards that made it impossible for anyone to gaze inside or out of my home. _

** _Someone’s in the house, dipshit._ **

_ I held my breath. _

_ The floorboards from the bathroom creaked, and echoed throughout the house. I quickly leaned my body flat against the wall that was facing away from the short hallway that led to my bathroom and bedroom, which opened up to the living room which I currently was standing in, backed up against the wall. I dug my hand into my jacket and placed it on the handle of my gun. Whatever was in my house was not invited. _

** _Obviously._ **

_ The footsteps grew louder; the floorboards screeching louder as it came towards me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The figure soon flashed in front of me, giving me just enough time to react. I lurched my palm out at them, forcing the creature against the wall, and pulled out my gun with the other, aiming at the individual’s head; I finally was able to get a good look at it. _

_ It was a woman. A woman who wore a faded woolen yellow-and-purple-striped turtleneck that had black stains seeping into its fibers. Black ooze dripped from her mouth; rips and gashes along where her lips were once prominent now only had black filling its holes. It was if you peeled away large clumps of her lips, and replaced them with black, formless skin that occasionally dripped a black drool. Her eyes were black as well; no pupils or any remnant of eyes were in her sockets. But she could see. I knew she could. I knew this woman. She’s my best friend. _

** _Fuck you._ **

_ “M-Mom! What are you doing??” She exclaimed, pushing away from me slightly. Her squeaky voice had a slight Russian accent to it that I could never not think was the most adorable thing on the planet. _

_ I sighed, and backed away from her, and holstered my gun once more. She was barefoot, and her hair was in a rugged mess, sprawled out along her shoulders and messed up in her face. _

_ “You scared the shit outta us, Ellie!” _

_ She whimpered softly, holding her hands in front of her, similarly to a child. _

_ “Well, how else was I supposed to get inside?” _

_ I groaned, and fingered my hands through my hair. _

_ “I have a  _ ** _door_ ** _ , Ellie. It’s there for people to use to get inside houses  _ ** _without_ ** _ breaking my bathroom windows in the middle of Winter!” _

_ She gripped her fingers together. Shit. _

** _Nice going asshole. I’ve got this. _ **

_ Backmouth poked his slender tongue from the collar of my shirt, and motioned for Ellie to come towards us.  _

_ “ _ ** _Hey kid, people fuck up a whole lot, especially this douchbag I associate with. It’s not your fault that doors are utterly useless.”_ **

_ I rolled my eyes, and opened my arms out to her. She squinted her eyes in a happy reaction, and quickly buried herself in a hug. I was all she had left; the closest thing she had to a friend; mother; father. _

** _I’m the father. You’re the mom. You’re always the mom, dipshit._ **

_ I take Ellie’s shoulders, and smile at her. She was always welcome here.  _

_ “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll fix the window later.” _

_ —————————————— _

_ It took me about 20 minutes to wrap the broken window in my bathroom in cloth, and prepare a bath for Ellie. She sat in it, leaning away from the wall so that I was able to wash her rugged brown hair. She’d been wandering the forests of The Darkrealms for a while now, but not as long as I have. The only difference between her and I, was well, she was dead.  _

_ The poison of this place has erratic effects on every individual, even me. For her, it aged her corpse by about ten years and brought her back, forcing her to wander The Darkrealms alone. I’ve told her so many times there’s no way outta here, but she never listens.  _

_ I thread my fingers through her hair, (which was absolutely  _ ** _FILTHY_ ** _ ). I remembered when I had long hair. It was silky, and was almost an amber color, but not quite. More brown-gold. I remember my father would put little bows in them and let me dance around in my little frilly princess dresses I coveted back then- _

_ I shook my head. Shouldn't be thinking about those things. Ever. I sigh, and continued scrubbing Ellie’s hair. _

_ “Hey mom? You looked like you were gonna go out again. Were you gonna go stalk the guy in the lady mask again?” She twiddled her thumbs on her knees, which were brought close to her body in the water. _

_ I sighed. “No, I wasn’t going to go see Tim today. I was about to make my way to the edge of the forest, you know, where The Hierophant lives with their children. But you needed a bath, and a warm place to stay in again. You’re always welcome to stay here permanently, y’know? I’ve offered it everyday.” _

_ She stayed silent for an insufferable amount of time, taking in short, slight breaths before inhaling a long one. “I wanna go home. This place is scary, and it has too many dark corners here, and...I just wanna find my mommy and go home…” She rested her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs in the water. _

_ I sighed again. She used me as a substitute for her mother, but she always yearned for her real one. I guess nothing will ever beat the original.  _

_ “You know, I never met my mom before.” I whispered to her. It was true, my mother abandoned me with my father, who was happy to take me in. Those days, difficult and aggravating, were probably the best moments in my life.  _

_ Ellie turned to face me, suddenly whipping her hair in my face and getting my cheeks wet and covered in soap. _

_ “You didn’t know your mommy?” Her eyes seemed to widen with disbelief. _

_ I wiped the water from my cheeks, and leaned my chin in my palm, while settling my elbow on my knee. “Ha, yeah. I never got around to meeting her, or even wanting to meet her..it was just kinda a choice, y’know? Why would I waste my time with a woman who disowned me when I could be, oh you know, stuck in a hell dimension full of faceless people and ill mannered fuckgoblins!” _

_ I stood up and opened a bathroom cupboard that was under the bathtub, and grabbed a large bath towel, holding it out. Ellie stood up, and casually wrapped herself inside it, like some sort of cocoon. I try not to stare at the mass gash scars that were lined across her body; deep cuts across her navel that were accompanied by shorter, shallower cuts, that all seemed to gradually morph into cuts that swallowed her upper thighs and...um…’sensitive spots below’. They all shone a grotesque grey color that contrasted with her pale skin.  _

_ Backmouth chuckled to himself as Ellie seemed to skip out of the bathroom to change. I could only sigh once more; I pulled off my shirt, and sifted through a pile of clothing I’d left in the corner, and pulled out an old whisky shirt.  _

** _You sigh too much._ **

_ I walked back into the living room and threw back on my jacket. Ellie seemed to be bouncing up and down when she also entered the living room, in her now clean turtleneck. She snuggled in the pillows on my couch, and watched me head out the door. The last thing I heard before I shut it behind me was a somber tone, “Be careful mom.” _

_ ———————————————- _

_ “Ellie will be fine without me watching her, BM. She knows how to hide and fight back if she needs to, and there’s food in the icebox.” _

** _You’re forgetting that she doesn’t know how to cook, like at all. Do you want her to starve? I suggest we go back, right now, and make her kickass Borscht. She likes that, right?_ **

_ I gritted my teeth, pulling my jacket’s collar closer to my neck, as the bitter winter wind began thrashing out in my direction. I hate the cold, I hate the cold, I fucking hate the goddamn cold. The black snow was deep enough to where it completely engulfed my ankles, and began melting into the shin-area of my jeans. Trekking through The Darkrealms’ forest was bad enough, but in the wintertime, you wish you were dead. _

_ “She’ll be fine, BM. We can’t turn back now! We need to get to the edge of the forest to see The Hierophant.” _

** _Why? So that it’ll mock us again for not subduing to The Black Ink? _ **

_ “So we can find out what the fuck this ‘New Arrival’ nonesense has in store for us! This could be an opening to end this stupid war!” _

** _Or to start a worse one. Do you ever even think about some of these possible consequences? This new arrival could be worse than Slender! This could be worse than Zalgo! Why would you take the rise of exploiting it!? It may not even be a threat! Just another random human kid Slender stole for his own entertainment!_ **

_ “I’ll take my chances.” _

_ The snow carried on falling on top of us as I trudged through the all too familiar infinity forest that made up most of The Darkrealms. At the edge of it, if you even manage to make it that far, lie The Ink Plains; the source of the poison that flows and changes people here. Only the most vile creatures flock in those territories. Creatures without form, or knowledge of if they were ever human. Creatures like The Hierophant, who knows all. They’re the only being worth trusting to figure out this whole mess. _

** _You didn’t even ask me. I could’ve known the answer all along, but nooooooo. You just stare at a note for an hour and decide the fancy schmancy Hierophant knows your answer. Some friend you are._ **

_ Rolling my eyes, I trudge on. Each step I take is horribly heavy and difficult; the snow ensnaring my feet after each step, and resisting against me as I try to pull my foot from the step I’d already made. _

_ ***** _

_ For hours I marched on, or what seemed like hours, occasionally stopping and hiding behind trees when I heard angry growls and curses from creatures nearby. They were everywhere; twisted skeletons with skin that they flay from their body; grotesque humanoids with black sludge that churns in their body, proof that they’ve been taken by The Darkrealms. Some don’t even resemble what they once were; extra growths, body parts, hair, absolutely anything could change. Some couldn’t even function. Some may only become deformed versions of themselves, still retaining their initial form, but having qualities considered animalistic. Ellie was like this. Tim was like this. Even I was like this, but we weren’t monsters. _

_ The snow never died down, in fact it grew more horrible, the cold freezing my fingers in place and flakes of black and white snow scraping against my cheeks. I was currently hiding in a tree I was able to climb, despite my side screeching in pain from newly formed bruises that appeared a while ago. The branch I stood on was brittle, swaying slightly in the wind while making subtle cracking noises. I reached in my coat for my binoculars...I reached in my coat for my binoculars. Wait a second. I feel around in my coat, not finding my binoculars tucked in their appropriate pouch. Fuck. _

** _They probably fell out of of your coat when you slung it on the chair, like your mask._ **

_ I scoffed at myself, and pulled at my hair. _

_ “Fuck!” I hissed.  _

** _Hey, people make mistakes. It just so happens that you make the most of them._ **

_ I sighed, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. There was no use in trying to spot anyone in this blizzard’s haze. _

** _Maybe we should’ve, oh I don’t know, waited until we were prepared instead of trying to get to The Hierophant as soon as possible? Just a thought._ **

_ I scowl at him. He was right, I always rushed things when I wanted to get something done. The harshness of the cold wind seemed to die down, and gave my face a break from being frigid as fuck. I blinked a few times to gaze out at the dark void in front of me. No monsters. No people. No anything, but trees and snow. I grasped my coat, jumping from the branch onto the ground below; my ankles sank back into the snow, with some of it splashing in my face. I groan, wiping my eyes and cheeks with my wrist.  _

_ “Long time no see, Sam.” _

_ A deep, familiar voice greeted me with a short knife against my neck. I froze, glaring at the individual in front of me. He stood taller than me, with a dark coat shrouding his figure. The stench of rotting flesh wafted towards me, reminding me of his eating habits; red droplets of what could only be assumed as blood, not his own, but someone else’s, dripped from under his coat and onto the white patches of the tainted snow, dying it red and slowly mixing into the black ooze that consumed most of The Darkrealms. His face was always covered with a simple blue mask that had the eyes of the mask gouged out. Black streaks of his own blood dripped from the eyeholes down the mask’s cheeks, leaving old streaks to be painted over with new ones. No one has seen him without his mask, and lived to tell what lies beneath it.  _

_ “Jack.”  _

_ “So you  _ ** _do _ ** _ remember me,” he voice tensed as he pushed the blade deeper into my neck. I could feel it slowly slicing it way into my flesh; my neck began to sting from the probably infected blade.  _

_ “Erg… I never forget a face.” _

_ His grip tightened on the handle of the knife. He quickly pulled it towards him, and stepped back as he admired the blade of his that was now dripping from blood,  _ ** _my blood._ ** _ I cupped the tiny slit on my neck that began to sting violently from under my palm, and leaned against the trunk of the tree and reached inside my coat, grasping the handle. _

_ “Charming. You’re always so goddamn charming. The Big Man has a pretty little price on your head you know, but he prefers you alive rather than being gutted like a pig,” he tossed his knife upwards, letting it spin for a second, before catching it by its handle and facing the blade to the ground. “But I think you’ll be able to live without a few body parts.” _

_ I chuckled. “A few? Define a few? Like, do you mean my legs?...Maybe my liver?...My kidneys?” _

_ With his left hand, he dug in his coat pocket, and brought out a small stemi-rusted scalpel; he clenched his fist around the tiny weapon, chuckling to himself. _

_ “Well, it would be my pleasure to remove them myself, if you don’t mind,” he snarled, suddenly twirling the scalpel with his fingers, “not that I’m actually asking for permission.” _

_ I licked my fingers and wiped the bridge of the new wound on my neck, collecting the blood that began to flow down my neck and flicking it off my fingers. _

_ “Figures, at least you’re more polite than Jeff.” _

_ He sprinted towards me, giving me barely enough time to react.  _

_ He lunged the knife forward towards me.  _

_ I grabbed his arm and redirected the knife into the trunk behind me, getting it stuck in the process, and pulled out my gun.  _

_ I felt sharp, agonizing pain in my head as he jabbed his elbow into my nose, causing me to stumble back. _

_ He spun the scalpel in his fingers again, and rammed his knee into my chest. I wheezed out and held my chest. _

** _Fucking hell man! Do some damage!_ **

_ I scoffed at him, pointing my gun at Jack. _

_ He twisted the gun out of my hand, and subdued me, pinning my arm to my back and ramming my head into the snow. _

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! _

_ I started to scream. _

_ Jack carved his scalpel deep into my shoulder blades, inflicting a pain that was comparable to being skinned alive.  _

_ Every inch he etched into my skin, I could feel blood pooling down my sides, while he would occasionally dug his fingernails to pick at the cloth to remove it. _

_ My gun sunk into the snow in front of me, knowing I was unable to reach it. _

_ Jack drew a large square box on my back, attempting to peel back the skin to access my organs from my back. _

_ I grit my teeth, trying to hold back pained howls from such an act, but it was futile. _

_ “G-Gyahh! Fucking- GAHH! BACKMOUTH!” _

_ The skin to my collarbone pulled back. _

_ Backmouth lunged his tongue forward, raising us up on top of Jack, while driving the scalpel further into my shoulder blades. _

_ I kicked myself off of him, holding my shoulder as it tensed and stung from the blade sinking its way deeper into my back. _

_ Backmouth wrapped his tongue around it, and pulled it out, chucking it into the forest’s haze of snow and the unknown. _

_ Jack got back up from his knees, hissing at me with a gritty tone. _

_ Sounds of saliva sloshing at spitting on the inside of his mask was present in his voice. _

_ He charged towards me. _

_ I dove for my gun. _

_ He tackled me from behind and flipped me over on my back, pulling out a second scalpel and lunging it towards my neck.  _

_ I clasped my hands on his wrist and battled his strength with mine. _

_ His blade only grew closer to my throat. _

_ I grit my teeth groaning as I lifted my gun towards his head, using the shoulder that he had impaled. _

_ Pain screamed from my back to longer I put weight in it. _

_ Blood soaked through my shirt, some of it sticking inside of the wounds and causing more inflammation. _

_ I pushed the barrel of the gun in Jack’s temple. _

_ He faintly hissed as I did so, and pushed down with his weight in the scalpel. _

_ The tip of it pierced my neck. _

_ I cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger. _

_ Jack grabbed and twisted my wrist as the gun fire, only nicking the side of his head. _

_ His other hand continued to push its filthy blade into my throat. _

_ I choked on my rapid breaths. _

_ Backmouth lashed his tongue out, wrapping it up Jack’s hand and arm, before twisting violently to the side. _

_ A loud  _ ** _‘Crack’_ ** _ followed it. _

_ A painful shrill wailed from Jack as he pulled himself from Backmouth’s grasp, and held his arm tightly. _

_ I lunged forwards and nailed Jack’s face; my fist plunging into his cheek, causing him to knock over. _

_ I choked on my gasps, and picked myself up, my gun in my hand, and pointed it at him. _

_ He was coughing, his back towards me and his mask sunk in the snow. _

_ “Erg….fucking bitch...augh!” He hissed, before picking up his mask and rose to his feet. He clutched his arm, which hung limp at his side, and hissed violently at me.  _

_ “This isn’t  _ ** _fucking_ ** _ over, you hear?! The next time I see you, your ass is mine!” _

_ I panted, stumbling over to the tree’s trunk to lean on it; I held my gun over my chest, it bouncing up and down with each raspy and incomplete breath I took. Jack dragged himself into the forest, disappearing with the trees and the snow’s haze. My legs felt weak, but I managed to stay on them. Droplets of black dripped aggressively from my back and onto the white patches of snow. My back screeched with pain. I was losing blood. Backmouth said nothing, and slid his tongue over my cheek. I held it there, and took and choked up breath, exhaling loudly. Hot tears ran down my cheeks as I buried my face in Backmouth.  _

_ “Mother…..fucker.” _

  
  


_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Creepypasta is rad.
> 
> Have a wonderful Halloween guys! Embrace the spooky month and all the spooky rituals you can think of! Even if that mean curling up and watching spooky or Halloweeny movies in the dark. Or playing spooky games! 
> 
> Or Reading Creepypasta
> 
> Happy Halloween!


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